Earlier, when Akira had infiltrated the area alone, he had moved with such precision and control over his chakra that he was able to conceal his presence entirely, going unnoticed by even the most vigilant sentries. However, now that he had returned with four companions in tow, their presence was far too conspicuous. The combined chakra signatures and sheer number of bodies made stealth impossible. Almost instantly, the patrol teams of the Cloud ninja sensed the intrusion.
Alert flares shot into the sky like blood-red streaks of lightning, and within moments, the forest began to rustle with the sound of dozens of Cloud shinobi converging like a tide. Akira and his group were swiftly surrounded.
Anko and Hayate tensed up immediately. They hadn't expected Akira to teleport them right into the jaws of the enemy. The group found themselves encircled by what looked to be an entire strike force. The enemy's coordination and speed betrayed their true identity—these were no common thugs, but trained Cloud Village ninja.
Hayate swallowed hard, his hand twitching near his sword hilt. Anko's eyes darted from one enemy to another, mentally calculating escape routes and attack patterns. Neither of them was inexperienced, but the sheer number of enemies—at least forty by rough count—was enough to make even seasoned ninja sweat.
Yet amidst the tension, Akira remained serene in that very moment.
Beside him, Kosuke stood with his arms folded, his sharp eyes scanning the enemy formation. There was no trace of panic, only a calm readiness—the confidence of a veteran who had faced death more times than he could count.
Akira, meanwhile, looked positively relaxed, almost amused. Compared to the bloody chaos he'd endured as Sasori in his past life, this skirmish felt like child's play. A mere few dozen Cloud ninja? Even if half were Jonin, it wouldn't matter. He could crush them like ants.
Kimura, standing just behind the group, trembled with emotion the moment he laid eyes on the enemies who had massacred his comrades. His hands clenched around his katana until his knuckles turned white. Rage pulsed through his veins, his body itching to leap into battle. But reason—tempered by recent failure—held him back. He waited for Akira's command.
Across the clearing, the Cloud ninja shifted as they took in their enemies. When they had heard the alert, they had expected a sizeable force of Leaf ninja. Instead, only five figures had arrived.
Four wore Leaf forehead protectors, but only one among them—Kosuke—looked seasoned. The other three were youths. And the fifth… a samurai? Recognition flashed in a few eyes.
The sneers began.
"This is it?" someone scoffed. "These are the Leaf ninja we were told to watch out for?"
"Just brats… except for that relic."
"They must be suicidal."
Despite their casual arrogance, a few among them hesitated. There was something strange about Akira. Something… wrong.
Akira stepped forward, his voice carrying across the field with cool authority.
"You're Cloud ninja, aren't you? The Land of Rice Fields is a neutral country. You have no jurisdiction here, no mission orders. What's your justification for attacking its villages?"
No one answered.
The Cloud ninja stared back at him with mocking eyes. A child asking adult questions. Ridiculous.
Akira smiled thinly.
"No answer? That's fine. I already know. You're trying to use the Land of Rice Fields as a foothold to stage operations against the Land of Fire. You want to expand the battlefield, disrupt the balance of power."
That got a reaction. Several Cloud ninja stiffened. Their eyes narrowed. How could he know that?
One of the older shinobi stepped forward—Arui, a seasoned Jonin. His eyes were sharp, his expression guarded.
"Since you already understand the situation," Arui said coldly, "then you must realize you can't be allowed to leave. Surrender peacefully. You're outnumbered. It's the only wise option."
Akira chuckled, the sound light, even amused.
"Outnumbered? You're seriously betting on quantity? Do you really think that matters to me? If I show even a fraction of my true strength, none of you will live past the next breath."
The Cloud ninja erupted in jeers and laughter. "Arrogant brat!" "You'll regret those words!"
Only the most experienced among them, like Arui, noticed the glint of certainty in Akira's crimson eyes. He wasn't boasting.
And that terrified them.
But Akira had no intention of cowering. In truth, he wanted their anger. If they all focused on him, it would reduce the risk to his teammates. Anko, Hayate, and Kimura weren't weak—but they weren't ready to face a coordinated onslaught of elite shinobi.
He needed the enemies to look at him—and only him.
He needed to shine like a sun.
"Multiple Shadow Clone Technique!"
Smoke exploded outward as ten perfect clones of Akira formed instantly, each one sparking with streaks of raw lightning.
"—Accelerator."
The Cloud ninjas flinched back.
Lightning surged around Akira's body, crackling with violent energy. The chakra was so dense it was visible to the naked eye.
"Th-that's… that's the Raikage's Lightning Release Chakra Mode!"
"Impossible! No one outside of Cloud is supposed to know that technique!"
Akira moved.
He became a streak of lightning.
The ten clones surged forward like phantoms, moving faster than the eye could track. The air rippled with sonic booms as their footsteps struck the earth. Cloud ninja shouted, raised weapons, launched shuriken—but Akira danced through it all.
His body blurred. His speed tore through their ranks. Each clone wielded a chakra scalpel—silent, clean, and utterly lethal.
A breath passed.
Ten Cloud ninja fell, their throats slit with surgical precision.
Another breath. Twenty more collapsed.
By the time the clones vanished, flickering into puffs of smoke, thirty Cloud ninja lay dead or dying.
Only four remained: Arui, Damui, and two more Jonin whose names Akira hadn't yet learned.
Anko, Hayate, and Kimura stared, their eyes wide with awe and disbelief. It wasn't just the kill count—it was the grace, the control, the silence. It had been like watching lightning walk on legs.
Akira turned casually, his voice composed.
"Looks like four survived. Uncle Kosuke, take one. I'll handle another. Anko, Hayate—you two team up against one. Kimura… you take the last."
Kimura's breath hitched. His hands trembled—not with fear, but with adrenaline.
Akira had done what he couldn't. Avenged his fallen comrades. The samurai bowed his head once, then raised it with determination blazing in his eyes.
"Yes, Lord Uchiha Akira. I will not let you down."
His blade sang free from its sheath.
The battle wasn't over yet. But now, the tides had turned. Akira's storm had only just begun.
"May I ask if you are Konoha's Lightning—Uchiha Akira?"
The voice came calmly from the battlefield's smoky veil. As Akira and his companions paused for a moment to reassess their positions and targets, a voice rang out. It was A Mu Yi.
When Akira's name began echoing throughout the Ninja World, whispered as "Konoha's Lightning," even the distant Hidden Cloud Village took notice. His lightning-speed combat style bore an uncanny resemblance to the famed Lightning Release Chakra Mode of the Cloud's elite. For Hidden Cloud, his existence had become an anomaly too dangerous to ignore.
"That's right. You must be Aruyi, am I correct?" Akira's Sharingan eyes met his opponent's with a calm, almost casual intensity. "You're strong. So, what's a powerful team like yours doing skulking around the Land of Rice Fields?"
It was an honest question, but one laced with a calculated bite. He had already evaluated them. Though three of the Cloud-nin had managed to repel his shadow clones, it was clear that Aruyi stood above them. While they survived, it was only because Akira had withdrawn the clones after they'd served their purpose. Aruyi, on the other hand, had not only survived but had countered and dispelled one himself.
Yet Aruyi was far from relaxed. The ghostlike speed of Akira's clone had nearly overwhelmed him—so sudden, so silent, so precise. In that instant, a pair of crimson eyes had flashed before his own.
Sharingan.
Aruyi knew well how dangerous it was to lock eyes with that bloodline. He realized then that Akira had spared him—not through mercy, but perhaps arrogance. The boy hadn't used genjutsu. Had he done so, Aruyi knew he would have fallen like the others.
Even as this recognition sank in, a deeper anxiety gripped him. Their mission was reconnaissance—to stealthily confirm if Konoha had troops in the Land of Rice Fields. Now, most of their elite squad lay defeated. As their appointed researcher, Aruyi was meant to observe, not lead battles. But here he stood, shouldering the weight of failure, unsure if he'd even live to report back to the Raikage.
Aruyi's gaze sharpened as he watched Akira. This was the same shinobi rumored to have battled alongside the Hokage himself, to have severely wounded Ye Cang of Sunagakure—a prodigy of the Scorch Release. That kind of battlefield placement was reserved for only the most trusted elite.
Still, Aruyi wasn't the kind to accept inferiority without a fight.
"Storm Release: Lightning Release—Thundercloud Inner Wave!"
A burst of chakra ripped from Aruyi's body as he launched into his assault. Rare, advanced—Storm Release ninjutsu wasn't something to be taken lightly. His strategy was straightforward: overwhelm Akira from the start.
Akira's expression barely shifted. "Storm Release, huh... A kekkei genkai type. This should be interesting."
Lightning danced around him. In an instant, his body blurred—vanished from sight.
Aruyi's laser-like technique twisted mid-air, tracking Akira's sudden reposition. Storm Release allowed that—the manipulation of lightning with fluid control, altering its trajectory like water. Yet Akira wasn't stalling.
"Water Release: Water Formation Wall!"
His hands blurred through hand seals—fifteen per second. Chakra surged and water gushed from his lips, forming a shield.
Aruyi's eyes widened. That wall wasn't supposed to stop a Storm Release laser. The attack should've pierced it like a spear through rice paper.
But Akira had learned well. Though not a master of Water Release, he had absorbed countless jutsu from the Second Hokage's tomes. He knew how to saturate enemy chakra, how to steal momentum from a technique. His Water Formation Wall did more than block—it consumed.
Failing to land a fatal strike, Aruyi shifted again, weaving new seals. "Lightning Release: Thundercloud Cavity Wave!"
Dark clouds surged from him, crawling toward Akira like a predator.
Akira narrowed his eyes, already reading the danger. The thunderclouds weren't just concealment—they were conductive traps. Once surrounded, he'd be a sitting target.
But instead of retreating, Akira smirked.
"Don't think you're the only one with kekkei genkai."
His fingers danced.
"Scorch Release: Ground Flame Flow!"
Crackling gold-red lightning surged from his hands, searing a path across the ground. The attack rode the terrain itself, quicker than Aruyi's thunderclouds.
Reacting instinctively, Aruyi cut off his jutsu and leapt high into the air, barely dodging the onrushing flames. The earth hissed beneath him.
Scorch Release—an advanced blend of fire and lightning that Akira had refined through grueling experimentation. The Ground Flame Flow's weakness was obvious: it couldn't strike anything not touching the ground.
Still airborne, Aruyi had no time to breathe. Akira was already weaving again.
"Fire Release: Great Fireball Technique!"
A massive orb of flame burst from Akira's mouth, hurtling upward.
Aruyi cursed inwardly. In the air, he couldn't dodge fast enough. Worse, his own hands weren't quick enough to counter.
He watched in dread as the fireball surged forward—until it passed him.
What?
He blinked.
The fireball had missed.
Landing with a thud, Aruyi barely had time to realize the truth. The fireball wasn't for him.
A Mu Yi, who had just begun forming seals nearby, looked left and saw the fireball bearing down.
He barely escaped it, backflipping out of range. But the distraction was enough.
Kimura, blade in hand, lunged. His strikes came swift and relentless.
Akira had promised Kimura an opportunity—to defeat a real enemy with his own strength. He'd been watching closely. When A Mu Yi tried to launch a jutsu against Kimura, Akira redirected the Great Fireball—saving his comrade and tilting the battle in their favor.
What impressed Akira more was Kimura himself. A samurai with no chakra training, and yet...
His speed, his power—they were beyond normal human limits.
Akira understood then. Kimura had been training so rigorously, so obsessively, that his body had begun to channel the latent life force within. He was unknowingly cultivating chakra.
It reminded Akira of another man—Might Guy.
The Green Beast of Konoha had done the same: broken his body to mold it into a weapon, tapping into power few shinobi could comprehend.
And now, Kimura was walking that same path.
Akira's eyes gleamed.
This world still had wonders left to offer—and he would see them all, even if it meant cutting down every cloud on the horizon.